


Honey in the Sky

by littlemissvincentvega



Series: Vince's Princess ♥ [12]
Category: Pulp Fiction (1994)
Genre: Couch Sex, Daddy Kink, F/M, Mile High Club, Private Jet, Quickies, Smut, stewardess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-12 23:18:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18456656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlemissvincentvega/pseuds/littlemissvincentvega
Summary: you're a stewardess working for Marsellus Wallace and, after falling asleep behind the bar, wake up to one of his closest hitmen ;)





	Honey in the Sky

“You alive there, honey?” a voice asks, and you jerk upright, confused. A greasy-haired smirking man is standing in front of the bar. You must have dozed off again. Working for Marsellus Wallace was nothing to complain about - he was fiercely kind to you and paid you well - but manning the bar on three hours sleep was nobody’s idea of fun. “Any chance of a drink?”

“Of course, Mr. Vega, I’m terribly sorry--” you say, tidying up your hair and straightening out your stewardess uniform, “--what would you like?”

Looking particularly smug, he thinks to himself for a second, as if he had forgotten why he was here in the first place. “Jack & Coke?”

“Comin’ up,” you smile, dropping a couple ice cubes into a glass and grabbing the drinks. “You want it strong?” He nods and leans on the bar as he watches you mix the drinks. You slide the glass across to him. “Jack & Coke.”

“Thanks.” Vincent takes a sip and looks back at you. “S’real good, Miss, but ain’t you gonna have somethin’?”

“I’m working!”

“C’mon, Marsellus won’t mind.”

“But what if I--”

“If you get into trouble, I’ll take the blame. C’mon, chill out!”

You sigh, locking eyes with him for a few seconds before giving in. “Alright then,” you smile, pouring yourself a vodka & Coke and dropping a couple of ice cubes in the glass. The two of you take a few gulps together and you begin to relax. “So, are you excited for Las Vegas?”

“Yeah. Nice break from all the, uh-- you know, hits.”

“I can imagine.” 

He zones out for a second, gazing at your body - the uniform is just tight enough to hug your curves perfectly and just unbuttoned enough to expose a good amount of cleavage. As he realises what he’s doing, Vincent snaps out of it and hastily pulls a pack of Red Apples from his pocket and holds it over the bar. “You smoke?”

Nodding, you watch him pluck a cigarette from the pack and lean forward, allowing him to place it between your blood-red lips. He lights it for you and precedes to light himself one. “Thanks.”

“No problem, honey.”

You blow smoke from the side of your mouth, Vincent watching like a hawk. “D’you always refer to women you hardly know as ‘honey’?”

“Depends,” he shrugs, his eyes darting from your eyes to your tits and back again. “Why, d’ya want me to stop?”

“No, I can deal with ‘honey’,” you smirk.

There’s just something about him-- the way those strands of his hair fall onto his face? The permanent smug expression? Or maybe it was the lingering aroma of smoke and booze? Either way, seeing the way he’s undressing you with his eyes makes your pussy clench-- it’s like he’s doing it on purpose.

You rest your chin in your hand, leaning your elbows on the bar, and he gazes at your lips for a few seconds. “You stoppin’ at the hotel with us, then?”

“Oh, no no no,” you chuckle, “I wouldn’t let Marsellus pay all that money for me.”

“S’a shame, I’d have asked you to come to the casino with me.”

Surprised, you raise your eyebrows at him. “Really?”

“Uh-huh,” he replies, and upon seeing your astonishment, cracks a wider grin. “You didn’t think I was kiddin’, did ya?”

You smile. “I don’t know, maybe just a bit.”

He has another drink, still grinning. “A pretty lady like you? Not believin’  _me?”_ he chuckles, the Jack having gone to his head a little.

“Thanks, Mr. Vega,” you say, flattered and embarrassed. His eyes flicker from down your uniform top back up to you, and as he sees you notice, he giggles a little. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothin’.”

You giggle with him, twirling your fingers around his. “So why are you laughing?”

“I’m not!” he grins, patting the seat beside him. “Come sit with me, I’m lonely here.” He watches your hips move side to side as you walk around the bar to join him, and it’s patently obvious where his mind is.

Running your tongue over your upper lip, you perch yourself on the leather stool, and you share a few moments’ comfortable silence. You watch him give your body a once-over and, glancing down, notice his bulge. Vince throws a lustful smirk your way and you feel your pussy contract, making you shuffle in your seat. “Mr. Vega, this is really unprofessional of me--”

“Honey,” he purrs, leaning forward, “Marsellus doesn’t give a fuck, don’t worry.”

“How d’you know?”

You let him pick you up, wrapping your legs around his torso. “I asked him personally,  _‘Hey man, would you be mad if I fucked lovely little Miss (Y/N) on our flight to Vegas?’,_ and he said _‘No, of course not, Vince, you handsome motherfucker,’_ ” he smirks, lips inches away from yours.

“I don’t know what it is but I feel like you’re bullshitting me on that,” you giggle.

He lays you on the couch-- the room was, as expected from Marsellus, luxurious, fully equipped with a couch, bar, mini-fridge and TV. Like an entertainment room. “Was it that obvious?”

“A little,” you breathe, and he leans in, kissing you deeply. Running your fingers through his hair, you feel him smile against your lips. Vincent pulls away to gaze down at you, and you giggle at him. “Uh... your lips, I think I-- they’re red now!”

“What?” He looks panicked. “Am I bleeding?”

“Mr. Vega, I’m wearing lipstick and we just kissed, can’t you put two and two together?” 

He thinks for a second and you can actually pinpoint the moment he realises. “Alright, alright,” he huffs with a smile. “I think it’s time this came off, anyway,” he grins, practically ripping the buttons on your uniform undone and marvelling at your tits. “Jesus Christ,” he groans, grabbing them and groping you roughly. “I’ve been wantin’ to get my hands on these since I first saw you on that flight to Amsterdam.”

You desperately rock your hips up, trying to get some friction between your pussy and his bulge. By now, your dress is hitched up over your panties and you just  _know_ there’s a wet patch down there. 

“Kind of a slut, aren’t ya, honey?” he smirks as he undoes his belt, not breaking eye contact with you.

“I have a soft spot for hitmen,” you joke, rubbing his boner through his pants. 

He groans with a smile. “Jesus _Christ,_ you’re gonna make me cum before I’ve even got ‘im out, stop!”

“Him?”

Vincent pauses. “That’s not what I said.”

“Yes it is, oh my-- Mr. Vega! Do you have a  _name_ for your dick?” you giggle, unbuttoning his pants as he rolls his eyes in embarrassment.

“Shush, I’ll explain later,” he mutters, yanking down your panties before you can protest. “God, your pussy’s fuckin’ gorgeous.” Exhaling, he unzips his pants and pulls them down a little along with his boxers, taking his cock out. He jerks himself a few times at the sight of your curious expression and pulsating wet cunt, then takes hold of your legs, sliding into you slowly. “I’ll pull out, honey, no worries. I don’t have cooties anyways.”

You have to hold in a squeal as he pushes in and out of you a few times, and he takes great pleasure in knowing he’s driving you batshit crazy. “You like that, baby girl?”

Barely able to string a sentence together, you only manage to choke out one word. “Daddy,” you whine, gripping onto his tie and biting your lip.

Vincent’s fucking gets faster-- neither of you have said it, but you both know it’s gonna have to be a quickie. His eyes keep flitting from yours to your tits. They’re bouncing uncontrollably and you can tell he’s loving every second of it. You grip the couch and feel him grow harder at the sight of you so vulnerable and horny for him, grunting with every thrust.

“I’m not gonna last much longer, honey, not with those lovely fuckin’ tits,” he growls, not taking his eyes off of you.

“N-no, me neither,” you stutter.

He gives you a smug smile and you return it, flustered. The two of you exchange a look of  _‘I’m ready’_  and he fucks you a little harder, dead-set on making you both cum. Not long passes and you feel yourself tighten around his cock. Quickly, he pulls out, jacking off to your contracting pussy, and unloads on your exposed, bouncing tits. “Fuck, honey,” he moans, jerking himself through his climax. “You’re good.”

“So’re you, Mr. Vega,” you say, out of breath but smiling up at him. He leans down and kisses you. 

“I’ll be sure to tip you for that,” he smirks, getting off of you and pulling his bottoms back up. You continue laying there, watching him do up his belt.

“So what’s his name?” you grin.

Vincent’s face drops. “Fuck you,” he mumbles, offering you a hand. You take it, sitting up and slipping your panties back on. 

“C’mon, tell me,” you plead, playing with his tie again.

He sighs and mutters something under his breath.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

“Marty, okay?” he huffs, helping you stand and buttoning your uniform back up.

You giggle.  _“Marty?_ Why Marty?”

“Watchin’ ‘Back To The Future’ with Jules, lost a bet, alright? Christ.”


End file.
